Fish Out Of Water

Kasey Kei and Jewelz Blu glide through the surf looking for something more interesting than more fish. They see another mermaid clutching a handful of glowing pearls—pretty rocks said to drop a girl in any water she can picture. The two make a grab, thumbs brush shell, flash. Suddenly the open ocean is gone. They surface in a backyard pool, chlorine in their noses, strange dry heat on their skin. They scramble up the ladder. Legs. Actual, wobbly human legs slap against the concrete, toes curling like startled starfish. Kasey stares. Jewelz snickers. “Guess the pearls overdeliver.” But the surprises keep coming: between these brand-new thighs sit brand-new parts. Jewelz finds a slick slit that parts under curious fingertips, Kasey finds a stiff rod bobbing in front like an eager periscope. They swap glances, then hands. A single slow stroke sends heat ripping through Kasey’s belly; Jewelz circles a fingertip and almost buckles. Laughter bubbles up. A car door slams somewhere beyond the fence. Two mermaids stand dripping, legs shaking, amazed and slightly scandalized by the brand-new toys nature just handed them on land.